Burn Baby Burn
by Lady NeverAfterNon
Summary: Lisa Braeden can't remember jack squat from the car accident that almost killed her and her son. What's worse, Ben's having nightmares about faceless monsters hunting him, formed out of black smoke. Something is haunting her little family, some nameless thing is after her son. Lisa must figure out what it is and what it wants before it takes everything from her. Dean/Lisa
1. Burn Baby Burn

**Author's Note:** _This fic will mainly revolve around Lisa and Ben, after the memory wiping shenanigans. Will take place end of season 6, season 7ish, running parallel to those. Stuff happens (remarkably similar to beginning of the Supernatural series, as a warning), and Lisa and Ben start hunting. There will be a grand total of ten chapters, each later chapter revolving around a single hunt. I'm trying to keep the fic shortish, so a lot of time will pass within the space of a chapter._

**Playlist for the chapter**: _Find Somebody to Love_ – Jefferson Airplane, _Edge of Seventeen_ – Stevie Nicks, _For Those About To Rock_ – AC/DC

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**Burn Baby Burn**

**By: **_Lady NeverAfterNon_

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_Rough hands spanned her rib cage, sliding up her hot overly sensitized skin. Her head fell back, unable to support itself under the deluge of the awesome sensations occurring somewhere in the vicinity of everywhere. She couldn't help a breathless moan, which was followed by a low, male chuckle. Her heart quickened. That voice sent delicious shivers down her spine, and made her thighs tremble._

_A warm, firm mouth with a hefty dose of stubble began to press slow, open mouthed kisses up her belly to follow a steady path up her sternum. Lisa very nearly whimpered. It was so, so freaking good, and not at all what she craved. What they both knew she burned for._

_"Patience, Leese," the voice whispered. "I got you."_

And then a pillow walloped her in the face.

Lisa Braeden's eyes snapped open and she clawed the lumpy down pillow off of her head. Blowing a chunk of hair out of her eyes, she turned to glare at the doorway where her son slouched, watching her with a rather disgusted look on his face. She threw the pillow back at him.

"Seriously, Ben?"

"Mom you were making weird noises in your sleep again. Think of the children," Ben said, not sorry at all.

Her head flopped back down. "Ugh."

Lisa scrubbed at her face. The dreams were starting to drive her nuts, and break her heart little by little. Sometimes she woke up crying with no idea why. Other times were like this, waking up cranky, hot, frustrated, and not to mention creeping out her kid when she got caught.

Ben took a running leap and belly flopped onto the king sized monster bed. Entirely too big for a single mom, or single anybody for that matter, but whatever.

"You know what, mom?" he said.

Lisa grabbed his nose and tweaked it. "What, kiddo?"

"You should make me breakfast."

"You should make ME breakfast," Lisa retorted, bonking Ben with her pillow, "Seeing as you woke me up from an _amazing_ dream with a freaking pillow. In fact, I think it's part of the perks of being the mom, getting to issue edicts to the kid. As punishment for rude awakening by pillow, I degree that the son shall make the mother breakfast."

It was amazing how fast that simple phrase sunk in.

"Ugh, gross mom, and that's abuse of power," Ben whined, and made a quick escape downstairs.

Lisa grinned and hauled herself out of bed. A quick glance at the clock told her that she had overslept, and as such barely had time for a quick shower, let alone breakfast, before work. Lisa threw her gym clothes on and scrambled downstairs, hastily raking her hair into a sloppy pony tail. Ben, proving that he'd known all along she was late and that breakfast was out of the question, had laid out a cold pack of strawberry poptarts and a thermos of coffee for her on the kitchen island.

"Ready for school?" Lisa asked, snagging her breakfast (and lunch) and pressing a quick kiss to the top of Ben's head.

"Yeah mom."

Something in his voice stopped her. Lisa set her coffee down and tilted his chin up. Ben's eyes were uncharacteristically dark, and deep bruises sat under them that had nothing to do with school stress. She immediately dropped everything she was carrying onto the counter and pulled her kid into a hug.

"Bad dreams again?" she asked.

Instead of rolling his eyes and squirming away like a normal boy his age would have done when faced with parental affection, Ben pushed his face farther into her shoulder. Lisa held him tight and rested her chin on top of his head. It was never a good sign when a boy on the cusp of manhood wanted his mom; it meant that something was well and truly wrong.

"I couldn't breathe," Ben said finally. "Something was sitting on my lungs, holding me down. There was a shadow on the ceiling, and it-"

Lisa didn't say anything, just combed her fingers through her kid's hair. If he wanted to tell her, he would. She wasn't going to make a painful subject any harder for him.

"-It looked like you," he finished, "You were dead, and there was a bunch of people laughing. I couldn't get up, couldn't do anything."

She gave Ben a hard, fierce squeeze. "Listen to me, sweetheart, I am _not_ dead, and I am never going to leave you. So you'd best quite thinking like that. Unfortunately, you're stuck with me. Understand?"

Ben nodded; still looking like the world was weighing his shoulders down. Lisa sympathetically pinched his nose and left a great big, juicy smooch on his forehead. _That_ got the depressed sad look off his face. Ben wiped at his forehead furiously, trying to get the affectionate mom spit off. Lisa cackled and left, glad that she had at least made a temporary difference.

"Ew! Mooom!" followed her out the door.

Lisa drove to her first physical therapy appointment, mind still on her son. Ben had been having nightmares ever since that car accident that neither of them seemed to remember the details of. She'd been having dreams too, but they weren't sinister like her son's. They just drove her crazy. Ben however had been woken every night with nightmares that either had him screaming until she woke him, or night terrors that locked his limbs into a frozen, contorted state. The latter was nearly impossible to wake him from, and judging from the fact that she hadn't been woken by screams last night, that had been it.

Lisa went through her day halfheartedly, meeting each of her appointments, mind completely on her son.

For a few months now Ben had been seeing a psychiatrist to try and help with the nightmares, and so far it didn't seem to be working. The nightmares hit him every night, and now the shrink had started to push her into agreeing to put her son on hard drugs. Lisa didn't want to do that to her kid, but she also didn't want Ben to suffer.

She made good money as a physical therapist for the hospital, but between the mortgages on the house, bills, and Ben's psychiatrist she was hard pressed to make ends meet. Maybe she could pick up some extra hours if she asked nicely. Lisa did the booking for her department on the side in order to bring in a little extra money, but if Ben ended up needing a prescription she was going to have to look hard at her options. Without insurance this was going to be a tight squeeze..

She made her last stop of the day outside the public library, barely thinking about work.

Her last patient was a cantankerous retired veteran with several pins in one knee courtesy of shrapnel from some sort of roadside bomb. Lisa checked her watch. They were supposed to meet at the woman's home, but June Masterson often worked late, citing work, but they both knew the uncomfortable pressing quiet of a dark house.

As she climbed the concrete steps, damp from a light earlier rain, her phone vibrated.

She glanced at the screen and immediately had to talk herself out of pushing 'ignore'. Logan was a nice enough guy, a high end divorce lawyer, and he made it no secret that he was interested in her.

Lisa had run into him in the hospital a few months ago. He had come in with one of his clients: a woman that had gotten smacked around a time too many by her asshole husband. He was good looking, and nice enough, but-…she let the phone continue to ring. There was just no spark. She looked at Logan, and then nothing. No butterflies, no chemistry. Zip, nada, zilch.

Lisa stuffed her phone into her purse and shoved her cold hands in her pockets. She'd finish up with June and get home to Ben. They'd make cookies or something, and go to the park and chuck the baseball around after. Ben was usually a mess after he met with his psychiatrist. The sessions seemed to hurt more than they helped, which frustrated her.

Lisa felt like an ass for sending her son to a shrink, but she felt like she didn't have any other options. It was wrecking him; he was a shadow of his former self. The nightmares were tearing him to pieces, and Ben didn't want to talk to her about his nightmares, and she didn't know any other way she could help.

She would to anything for her son, anything to see him safe and well. Whatever it took, she'd see it done if it killed her.

The library was a controlled hub of chaos, warm and vibrant, a stark contrast compared to the silent cold autumn street outside.

June was a tall Native American woman in her mid thirties with long black hair and an unholy love of witty internet t-shirts. Her t-shirt of the day showed a T-Rex attempting to open a door, and a Velociraptor pointing and laughing. Lisa had been her physical therapist for about a year, and she had yet to figure out what tribe June belonged to- not knowing how to ask.

June, attempting to herd a group of rowdy middle school children amped up on their newly acquired Hunger Games booty out the door to their bus, looked up and saw her.

"You're late," she muttered, sinking into her chair with a groan.

"And you're supposed to be home after a half shift, instead of working an entire day," Lisa said cheerfully, "Doctors orders I believe, but look where we are."

"Whatever. Do your thing, " June said, pointing at her left knee.

"What? Here? Your office has more privacy."

June rolled her eyes. "I fought and got blown up for these people. They can stand to look at my gnarly knee for a minute or two."

"If you say so. Roll up your pant leg," Lisa said, squatting.

June rolled up her jeans, wincing. "Hurts worse than I thought it did."

Lisa gently prodded the inflamed, tender skin around June's knee. "You really, really shouldn't be putting so much stress on this. You're doing more damage than is good. The whole knee is swollen and you're just going to end up aggravating it. We'll have to modify your stretches. If you stay off it tonight completely it'll stiffen up and be useless in the morning, and you'll end up hurting yourself."

June sighed and flopped back in her chair, massaging her temples. "Ugh. Just what I wanted tonight, sitting on my ass doing stupid stretches."

Lisa grinned. "If you did the work load you were supposed to, we wouldn't be having this conversation. You're in luck though, there's a Stargate SG-1 marathon on tonight so at least you'll be entertained."

"Pffft. Stop coddling me. Can't talk about what I did for the military, but I can tell you about basic and lemme tell you, they don't even know what the word coddling _means_. My DI got me when I asked him about meet up times. He said 'You think I'm your momma? This isn't summer camp! I can _make_ it summer camp. Ok, EVERYONE HOLD HANDS, NOW!' We all hold hands ... 'NOW SING!' Well, in boot camp you do what you're told. Without skipping a beat we all started singing Kumbaya My Lord and swaying in unison, smiling like sin."

"Wow. Really?"

"Yep. Another of my instructors made me make out with a dummy when I didn't bayonet it right during a drill."

Lisa choked, and drew up a chair. There was a coffee maker on the desk, and she stole a clean mug. Library coffee was a close cousin of jet fuel and acid, but at least it was hot and warm.

June pantomimed her DI. "What's wrong cadet! You call that a strike? You might as well show it a good time cause you ain't doing nothing else. KISS THE DUMMY." June shook her head fondly. "Ah, Sergeant Vasquez, that man was a treasure. I made out with that dummy for five freaking minutes before he'd let me continue. Half my platoon watching the damn display."

Lisa stared into her coffee and thought of Logan and the missed calls on her phone, and the dreams of a strange, oddly familiar man that wouldn't let her go. "I dunno," she muttered, "I'd almost rather have the dummy."

"You should at least go on a date with Logan," June said, rightly guessing the cause of the dilemma, "At least then you'll be able to put a reason as to why you don't want him."

"You're right," Lisa said, standing, "I'll just suck it up and do it."

"Atta girl," June told her.

"You know you make me feel like a sap," Lisa muttered, "Here I am moaning about a few problems, and you've got, well, you."

"What? A military career that I can't talk about, no friends, and a shattered knee? Believe me sister, I'm not the one on top here," June said quietly.

"I wouldn't say _no_ friends," Lisa said, "I think we vaulted over that doctor patient line a long time ago. We're friends. You're giving me advice on my love life for chrissake."

"Well, good luck with that. How's your kid doing?"

Lisa shrugged on her coat. "Rough. He's still having nightmares. Every night they wake him up. He goes from zero to sixty, sometimes he wakes up and has no idea where he is. I stayed with him a few nights ago, and his eyes just shot open and he was out of bed and across the room before I could say anything. Nearly hit the wall."

June made sympathetic noises.

"I was thinking we'd make dinner and then go to the park and throw the baseball around. We haven't done that in a while," Lisa said.

"Family time," June said nodding,"Sometimes just being with someone is the only medicine a body needs. Believe me, I know. Ben may not want to admit it, but he's still a kid, and kids need their parents when things go wrong something fierce."

"Well, I'm out of here then," Lisa said, "Thanks for the coffee."

"Don't mention it. Have a good one."

Lisa opened the library door. "And do your stretches!"

June waved her out the door and Lisa left.

The drive home was a quick one. No one was out on the roads and her subdivision was quiet; all the families were home eating dinner.

Lisa hurried up their front walk, briefly glowering at the peeling paint on the trim. More bills, more things to get done that they didn't have the money for.

Ben opened the door before she could get her key in the door. With him came the smell of macaroni and cheese, and garlic toast.

"Hey kiddo. How was school?" she whispered, hugging him before he could get away.

"Bleh. Same old boring crap. I slept through most of it."

"I never thought I'd say this, but good," Lisa said, "I'm glad you got some sleep. Now what did you make me for dinner?"

"Hah! I made dinner for me, not you. Extra cheesy mac an' cheese, and garlic bread with extra garlic. I'm gonna eat it all," Ben said, laughing, as he started for the kitchen.

"You know what another perk of being the mom is?" Lisa asked, putting Ben into a headlock, "having longer arms!"

Ben shrieked and tried to get free, and his mom hauled him to the kitchen. Ben laughed and tried to tickle her but Lisa used her position to give him a good noogie.

She released him to get bowls from the cupboard. Dinner was quiet, both opting to eat on the couch in front of the TV for the Stargate marathon. Ben sat curled up against her, rather than perching on the floor or flopped out over the arm of the couch. Ever since the car accident that neither of them could really remember clearly they'd been closer, but now with the nightmares Ben seemed to need that reassurance more. She kissed the top of his head, and set her empty bowl next to her.

Absentmindedly she ran her hand over the creased leather of the couch. The spot next to her was indented and worn, like someone had sat there hundreds of times. She closed her eyes. She could almost see him: broad shoulders, thick, short brown hair, no face. She squeezed her eyes tighter, trying to think.

_'Why can't I see your face?'_

They gave up halfway through the marathon, Ben reluctantly trudging upstairs for bed and Lisa watching, knowing that the nightmares were going to come and that there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Lisa followed him upstairs, trying not to hover as he got ready for bed. She pulled on a tank top and sweats, and wondered for the umpteenth time why the hell she actually owned lingerie in the first place. It wasn't like anyone was around to see it.

Ben had gotten into bed. He fumbled with his sheets, punched his pillow, did anything but actually lay down.

Lisa knocked on his door. "Hey kiddo, want some company tonight?"

He shook his head and took a deep breath. "No, but thanks mom."

Lisa walked to him and pulled him into a fierce, hard hug. "I love you, sweetheart. Whatever happens I love you. We'll figure this out, I promise. It'll be okay."

Ben nodded and Lisa kissed his hair.

"Goodnight," she whispered, shutting off the light.

Neither of them believed it.

* * *

.x.

_Lisa was dreaming again. She knew she was dreaming, because this day had already happened._

_She was standing at the kitchen window, overlooking the driveway, hands buried elbow deep in soapy dishwater. She remembered what day it was perfectly: she was cranky because one of her patients was refusing treatment, and the city had decided to raise the taxes in their district, which meant money was going to be tight again._

_Snow was falling in heavy, feathery flakes. A quick glance at the temperature gauge attached to the porch rail informed her that it was a mean twenty two degrees Fahrenheit outside._

_A man in a heavy green flannel jacket was crouched by her car, changing her tires. As she watched, dishwater growing cold, he jacked up the side of the car, loosened the lug nuts and swapped out her last summer tire for her studded winter ones. Then he lowered the car and stood, staring at it, shoulders hunched. His back shook, almost like he was crying._

_Lisa immediately dried her hands and walked outside. She didn't know what to do, or say. She didn't know this mysterious, tire changing gentleman who cried in falling snow, but he was so damn familiar and dear that her heart squeezed into a little ball. It hurt her that he was hurting, and somehow she wanted to fix it if she could._

_She came to stand at his shoulder, and they stood side by side in the falling snow and growing dusk. The porch light illuminated the driveway with a soft glow, the snowflakes the light hit glittered like fireflies._

_"Thanks for changing my tires," she whispered, "Saved me fifty bucks at the Chevy Dealership."_

_He chuckled and swiped his arm across his eyes. "Whoever charges a lady fifty bucks for a tire change needs to be shot."_

_She smiled and wiped a bit of snow out of his hair. His expression turned haunted and sad. "I'm so sorry, Leese. I'm sorry that I-"_

_She cut him off, thumb pressed against his deliciously firm mouth, stubble tickling her hand. It killed her that she still didn't know him. She wanted to know him so very badly, wanted to help him._

_"Shh, baby. Do me a favor?" Lisa whispered._

_He looked confused. "Wha-?"_

_She pushed gently at his shoulders, guiding him back about ten feet. "Stand here. Don't move."_

_He looked adorably perplexed, no doubt wondering what the hell she was up to. Well he would soon find out. Lisa bent over and began scooping snow up into a ball, using the heat of her hands to get it to form fight. When she looked up he was watching her with a small smile tugging at his mouth._

_"What are you doing?" he asked._

_"Nothing," she said nonchalantly, adding more snow to her growing snowball, "Please continue. What were you about to say?"_

_"I meant-" he was distracted, watching her reddening hands casually pack more snow together, "I was gonna say I'm sorry to be such a burden to you and Ben. I know it can't be easy living with me, running hot and cold on you all the time. I'm so sorry Leese."_

_"Okay," she said, and lobbed the massive snowball at his head._

_He moved out of the way and it went sailing over his shoulder. "You threw a snowball at me!"_

_"You knew what I was making."_

_"I didn't think you'd actually throw it!"_

_She put her hands on her hips. "You weren't supposed to dodge!"_

_"What and just let you hit me?"_

_Lisa bent and scooped up more snow. "Yep!"_

_He suddenly grinned at her and his smile lit up his whole face. His green eyes sparkled and little laugh lines crinkled at the corner of his eyes. He was gorgeous when he smiled, she decided. She would do her best to make him smile more often._

_Lisa shrieked and dodged his answering salvo. His snowball hit her car with a heavy whap. It was _on_ after that. _

_Both of them dodged around her car, lobbing snowballs and laughing. He got her more often than she got him, but neither of them was really keeping score. Finally he swept her up in a great bear hug, forcing her to drop all of her snow. Lisa didn't mind. It was nice and warm in his arms. She stuck her nose in his collar. He smelled like laundry detergent, leather, gun oil, and engine grease._

_It was a pleasant scent, and made her toes curl. She curled her cold hands under his jacket and shirt to rest against the hot skin of his abs._

_"Geez woman, your hands are freezing!"_

_He let her keep them there, though. Lisa smiled sadly and cupped his cheek. "Why can't I remember you? Who are you?" she asked softly._

_She knew that when she woke up she would have only fragments of the dream, and she would not remember his face or those gorgeous green eyes._

_Dammit._

* * *

.x.

Ben tossed fitfully in his room. He was deep in sleep, the sheet pulled up over his head like a shield. A shadow curled in through the window to billow up to the ceiling like black smoke. The smoke twisted and turned like a many faceted snake, then it broke off into multiple trails to pool at the foot of Ben's bed.

The smoke trails circled Ben's bed, whispering together.

"Soon."

"Soon."

"Yes, soon."

* * *

.x.

_To be continued..._


	2. Lisa Vs The Dark

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the feedback guys! Just an alert: time is going to be a little wonky in this story. Last chapter took place around the beginning of season seven. Feel free to ask questions if my writing is confusing. Please listen to the songs as you read!

**Playlist for the chapter**: _Bargain_ – The Who, _Run to the Hills_ – Iron Maiden,_ Harden My Heart_ - Quarterflash

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**Lisa vs. The Dark**

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Dean sat in the Impala, engine idling outside a small mom and pop grocery store in Michigan. Kevin, Sam, and Kevin's mom were inside the Quickie Mart getting supplies for the road while they waited for Garth. Castiel sat next to him, hands shoved deep in the pocket of his trademark trench coat. Dean liked their silences; Cas didn't say anything and Dean didn't feel like he had to spill his guts.

He didn't feel like that with Sam. It was like there was this barrier between them. Dean knew perfectly well what that barrier was. It was the hell of Purgatory and the mysterious woman, Amelia.

He resented the fact that Sam didn't look for him, but even more he resented the fact that his brother had been able to let him go, to find the apple pie life when Dean couldn't.

When Sam had been in Hell Dean had stayed with Lisa and Ben. He'd wanted so bad to let himself belong to them, to be their support system, a husband and father figure. Dean had never belonged to them though, not completely. He had wanted to, so very badly, but the thought of his baby brother in Hell had tortured him.

Apparently Sam hadn't had the same issues.

Dean sighed. If he really thought about it, the fact was that he was jealous. Sam could let the Hunter side of himself go and Dean couldn't. There wasn't a day that went by that he didn't think about Lisa and the kid. Sometimes he'd hear a woman laughing and turn expecting to see her. He'd hear a kid rocking out to AC/DC or Def Leppard and expect to see Ben.

He couldn't get his happy ending, but Sam had found his. It wasn't fair.

Dean could see the outline of his brother through the clouded window of the Quickie Mart. It was hard to miss him, Sam was gigantic. He was currently arguing with Mama Tran, jabbing a finger at whatever it was in her hand. Dean snorted. Probably saying no to whatever weird scheme she had in mind this time around, like trying to buy an entire frozen chicken to cook in a cramped little hotel room. He reconsidered. Not that all her and Kevin's ideas were bad. The holy water super soaker was actually a great idea. He wished he'd thought of a demon repelling squirt gun sooner.

Chipper conversation caught his attention as someone walked past his car.

Dean glanced up and his heart stopped. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, the worn leather creaking under his white knuckled grip. Castiel looked over at him, questioningly, then his gaze followed Dean's.

A woman with long, wavy dark hair holding the hand of a small boy walked past them into the Quickie Mart. She was laughing as she flicked mud out of the squirming kid's hair.

"Is there anywhere that you didn't get mud on you?"

"Mom, quit it!"

"Yeah right. C'mon kid, let's get you cleaned up. You can't sit in the car like that."

He saw her face as she passed his window. It wasn't Lisa and Ben, however much it looked like them. The woman was a little on the short side, the boy too young.

Dean and Cas watched the two walk into the store, unaware of the scrutiny.

"Have you thought about going back?" Cas asked. "Once this is all over?" There was no point in beating around the bush; they both knew what was on Dean's mind.

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat and found he was unable to look the angel in the eye. "I can't. Lisa deserves so much better than me. I think we've pretty much proved that the only thing I can give her is death and heartbreak."

Cas didn't say anything. It wasn't like he could. The stark reality was that the demons had targeted Lisa and Ben simply to get at Dean. There was no other way to look at it. As long as Dean was in their lives, they would be in danger. They were his weak spot. He couldn't protect them twenty-four seven; that much was painfully obvious.

Dean slumped in his seat, sticking on his aviators. Using sunglasses to hide a face was a silly human habit, and Dean knew that it wouldn't fool his self appointed guardian angel, but what the hell.

Besides, it was a good time for a nap.

He crossed his arms and tucked his chin into his flannel shirt. "I'm gonna take five. Wake me up when they get out. Or when Garth shows up. Whatever."

Dean closed his eyes, and passed out into bliss and darkness.

_He knew he was dreaming, mainly because he was happy. No, that wasn't the right word for it. Sammy was still in Hell. He was content. More or less. Dean was on his knees with his head under a kitchen sink, tightening a loose pipe._

_"Now that's some plumber ass. Rawr."_

_He startled so fast he banged his head on the underside of the counter. Lisa was standing behind him in her hospital scrubs, looking apologetic._

_"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." She ran her hand gently over the back of his head, feeling for a bump._

_Dean curled back into her hand, eyes sliding closed in pleasure as she ran her fingers through his short hair, scraping her nails gently along his scalp. He remembered this day. It had been one of the good ones where he hadn't been such a mess, drowning his sorrows in an alcoholic stupor. God he'd been an ass. He cringed now to think about what a nightmare he'd been for her and Ben. He didn't deserve either of them._

_Still, that quiet Friday had been bliss. Lisa had gotten off work early, Ben had stayed late at school for baseball, and so they'd had the entire afternoon to themselves._

_It suddenly occurred to Dean that since it was a dream, he was going to have to eventually wake up. Lisa was looking down at him with a small, gentle smile, and brown eyes shining, but she wouldn't be there forever. Soon she would be gone. He'd wake up in the Impala with a cold, bleak, and lonely road ahead of him._

_Dean stood and held her fiercely to him, registering her small gasp of surprise. "Thank you, Leese, for everything," he whispered. "I never said it enough to you."_

_Lisa pulled back a few inches and cupped his cheek. "Baby, what's wrong? Are you feeling okay?"_

_He nodded, not able to bring himself to speak. Lisa searched his face as though she could read there what was bothering him. She bent forward and pressed her mouth to his, branding him with her kiss. Dean slid his hands under her bottom and set her down on the counter top His tools clattered to the floor when she shoved them off to make room for her butt. He let out a ragged moan when her legs curled around his hips, pulling him flush against her cotton covered core. Dean settled between her thighs like they were made for him._

_The pleasure almost burned him but he welcomed the heat. Maybe if he burned hot enough he could still feel it when he woke up._

* * *

.x.

Lisa Braeden found herself in the occult section of the library. It had been a solid two years and four months and six days, and she was at her wit's end. The various book titles ran together in front of her eyes, and try as she might she couldn't focus on them. She wondered half hysterically that if she started screaming, would anyone hear her? She knew what the answer was: there was no one to save her. Not her parents, not a lover, not any of the friends she kept pushing away, nobody.

A goth kid rounded the corner, took one look at her face, and decided he didn't want to stay in the aisle with the crazy lady any longer.

Lisa knew she looked like hell.

She hadn't been eating much the past few months, and since today was her day off and she was just too tired for anything else other than a shower, brushing her hair had been optional. She'd raked her fingers through it this morning and called it good. Unfortunately it had dried in clumps, and along with the bags under her eyes and her thinning face, she looked like the Wicked Witch of the West. Sans green tinted skin.

Her phone rang, The Black Key's song Howlin' startling the stillness of the library. Lisa jumped, clawing it out of her pocket to turn it off.

She didn't bother to check the screen. It was either one of Ben's teachers wanting to know where he was, one of the doctors in charge of her son's case calling with bad news, or one of the moms she was in PTA with calling to tell her they thought she was abusing her son.

If she thought about it, she could see why. In the last year Ben had stopped eating, stopped sleeping. His grades hadn't just dropped- they were nonexistent. Her son was a wraith. He didn't scream in the night anymore but when Lisa stopped outside his door, she could hear him whispering. It scared the hell out of her.

She rested her head against the bookcase. What the hell was she even doing here? Just because every doctor had exhausted every possibility, and her life was falling apart, did not mean that she needed to blame something supernatural.

There was no such thing as monsters, right?

Her phone buzzed once. Lisa glanced at her new text and wasn't really surprised to see that June's name was flashing dimly on the screen. She slid her thumb across the screen to unlock her phone.

_Thought i heard ur phone. not sayin hi is a dick move, whr u at?_

Lisa tapped out a quick response. _In ur spooky section. hobble fast._

June's reply made her smile. _Hang tight, I come bringing coffee_.

Lisa decided it would probably be rude to make June walk all the way to the back of the library with her old injury still giving her grief. The wounded vet's knee was getting better, but over taxation was an ever present issue. She glanced back at the shelves and decided she was being stupid. There was no such thing as magic or monsters. Ben had a problem with a scientific solution, and she wasn't helping him by chasing fairy tales.

June was just coming around the desk with two steaming mugs of coffee when Lisa made it up to the front.

June sank back into her chair with a laugh when she saw Lisa. "I wasn't really looking forward to a full library trek anyway."

Lisa grinned. "And there was a hoard of cougars reading Fifty Shades of Grey out loud in the circle cushions anyway. Good luck getting through them with your sanity intact."

"That's nasty." June looked like she'd swallowed sour milk. "Ugh, now I'm going to have to get up. They can't be reading that crap out loud. What if some impressionable young tot hears them and gets scarred for life?"

"I thought Ben was innocent until I found a wealth of Busty Asian Beauty porn mags under his bed."

"Hah! That must have come as a shock to you as a mom," June said.

Lisa shrugged. "Not really. I knew the bomb was going to drop eventually. It could have been worse, like hoarding girls' underwear or something."

"Ew. So what did you do to shock your parents?" June asked.

Lisa considered the tawny Colombian blend contents of her library mug. "I was a stereotypical good girl growing up, got straight A's in high school, did sports- I was the kid that did all of the after school clubs mainly cause I liked showing off. I actually got a full gymnastics scholarship to Purdue University."

"I'm sensing a 'but' here," June murmured.

Lisa gave a short bitter smile that was more of a tensing of the lips than anything. "My parents died in a car accident. I dunno, it was like I just kind of broke inside. I stopped going to classes and started hanging out at bars, looking for something to fill the hole that had opened up in me. If it was smooth, savvy, and wearing leather, than I slept with it. I probably dated the entire biker population of Indiana."

"Then what happened?"

"The best thing that could have happened to me: I got pregnant with Ben. It all turned around after that. I got my act together, went back to school, and graduated with a degree in physical therapy and herbal medicine," Lisa said, reaching for the coffee pot sitting on the desk.

"Who's Ben's father, if you don't mind my asking?" June asked, holding out her mug for a refill.

"I don't mind," Lisa chuckled, "He's-" Lisa stopped and frowned, wracking her brain. That was odd. For some reason she could no longer see Ben's father's face, or even recall his name. The harder she tried to remember the more she felt like she was losing. Her temples actually began to throb after a while.

"I-I can't remember," she whispered, horrified. It was too much, after everything else. Lisa burst into tears.

"Oh geez I'm sorry." June sounded equally appalled as she quickly pulled her physical therapist turned best friend into a hard, fierce hug. "I didn't mean to drudge up bad memories."

"It's okay," Lisa sniffled. "I'm just tired. I don't know why I can't remember."

June handed her the tissues. "Blow. Then have more coffee."

Lisa blew her nose in a loud honk that had library goers turning around with bewildered expressions. "Woops."

June chuckled. "Nice."

"So how did _you_ get here?" Lisa asked.

"I drove."

"Smartass. You know what I mean."

June chuckled. "Yeah, I couldn't resist. Well I was in an out of foster homes as a kid. My parents were both junkies and couldn't take care of me. I was in so much trouble with the law when I turned eighteen that a judge gave me the chance to either go to jail or join the military. I chose the military."

"Was it tough?"

"Oh yeah. I was a little shit and my DIs knew it. Basic was hell, but it gave me the boot in the ass I needed. I made something of myself, learned that even though I grew up on the streets, and that even if everyone thought I was the Ojibwe Indian brat that couldn't stay out of trouble, I could still mean something. My life could have value." June's voice had gone guttural and quiet. Lisa could tell that they were both deep into the rough, turbulent waters of memory lane.

"What happened with your knee, if you don't mind my asking?" Lisa said softly. "They told me you were wounded in action, but no details."

June set her coffee mug down carefully. "We're not supposed to talk about it. I can't say much, just that I was with the US Marine Corps Special Forces Op-Com and we needed to get someone out. It didn't go like we hoped. Half my team died, one of the packages died, and I got a knee full of shrapnel."

"Shit," Lisa said quietly.

June shook her head and raised her coffee mug. "I hope you and Ben make it, I really do. To youth lost."

Lisa tapped her mug lightly against June's. "Yep."

* * *

.x.

When Lisa got home it was dark. The subdivision her house was on was quiet and a tad chilly, which was exceedingly odd for a supposedly summer night.

Her breath rose in a cold plum in front of her face.

Lisa was glad she had chosen to drive to the library, instead of walk to the bus stop. The bus was cheaper, but it was a stressful crush of bodies. Taking her car wasn't saving her any money ,but it did save her a good deal of her sanity. As she scrambled up the front walk Lisa felt the hairs raise on the back of her neck, like there were eyes on her. She turned as she got the door open. Across the dimly lit street, over the small river of curling heavy mist, there was only one house with it's lights still on.

Old Man Weaver was standing in his large bay window, watching her.

Lisa offered him a thin, shaky smile. Old Man Weaver was a skinny, cranky old man that spent his time screeching at little kids who strayed too close to his lawn and threatening to shoot joggers whose dogs pooped on his sidewalk. Normally he was harmless, but for some reason, tonight he gave Lisa the willies.

From this distance and in the dim light, his eyes looked all black with no whites. She shivered.

He smiled wide at her, showing yellowed and crooked teeth.

Lisa scrambled inside her house and slammed the door, only feeling safe after she slid home the deadbolt and closed all the blinds. The house was quiet and dark and still. Ben's bike was in the driveway so he'd either skipped school again, or had never left the house. Either way he was home and safe. That was all that mattered.

"Ben?" she called, tossing her keys on the table in the entry way. "Have you eaten yet? I'll make Chicken Parm."

No answer. Lisa frowned, and began a systematic check of the house. Ben was home, his school things were laid out on the kitchen table. She wandered into the living room, which was silent. The television was dark and cold when she laid her hand on it. Same for the Xbox and PS3 that sat on the shelf underneath.

"Ben?" she called again, softer this time. "Sweetie?"

There was a low creak at the front door, the sound of footsteps on the porch. Lisa froze, fists clenched so tight that her nails dug into her palms. The front door clicked and whined as it slid open. Lisa's heart turned to lead in her chest; she _knew _she locked that door. Why the hell was it opening? Her eyes slid closed and she took a shaky breath. Why couldn't she move? She should be moving, someone was in her house, and she had to do _something_-

Soft footsteps shuffled on the carpet behind her and she turned, lead heart falling into her stomach.

Old Man Weaver stood in front of her, oddly tall and steady on his knobby knees riddled with pins and arthritis. He swung his arms and cracked his shoulders, elbows, and all ten fingers. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to run but she was frozen where she stood. The lead in her heart seemed to have welded her to the floor. Weaver smiled wide at her and she could see the tobacco stains on his teeth and the shine of his spit. He cocked his head to the side as if saying, _get it now?_ Lisa didn't get it, whatever _it_ was. Then she noticed that his eyes really _were_ a shiny all encompassing black, the kind of black that swallowed entire solar systems, even light, letting nothing escape.

Lisa turned and bolted for the stairs. She could hear Old Man Weaver coming after her. She was in good shape from all of the yoga and jogging she did, but the thing coming after her was unnaturally fast.

She hit the stairs at a dead run, but a bony cold hand closed around her ankle like a steel vise. It yanked. Lisa fell, hard, nails leaving white lines in the wooden stairs as Old Man Weaver dragged her backward.

"Let go!" she screamed, slamming the heel of her foot into his face.

The thing wearing Old Man Weaver's skin smiled at her around blood and broken teeth. Lisa screamed again, loud and high, hoping that _someone_, anyone would hear her and come rescue here. There was no one, though. It drug her back sharply so that she banged her chin on the last step and Lisa tasted blood. She clutched at the rail slats and the edge of the banister, but it was like her measly human body was nothing compared to the impossible strength of the thing hunting her. Long fingers tangled into her wavy hair and lifted her up, straight off of her feet, leaving her sneakers to dangle helplessly in the air. Lisa's hands tried to pry his fingers off but they wouldn't budge. Her scalp burned and tears sprang to her eyes. Old Man Weaver lifted her close to his face.

"Give us the boy." His voice was like a thousand people whispering at once, and his breath smelled like rotten eggs.

"Over my dead body," Lisa snarled. Whatever this thing was, she was not going to let it get her son. Not if she could help it.

It smiled again, and this close to it Lisa was able to see that her kick had dislodged Weaver's jaw so that his teeth closed at an awkward angle. Spit and blood lolled out of the slack part of its mouth, collecting in the loose folds of skin. It was disgusting and Lisa dry heaved when it brought her closer.

"If you insist," it said lazily, and flung her.

There was a tearing at the back of her skull and Lisa went flying, all the way across the room to hit the opposite wall with a hard crash. She heard a low pop in her left shoulder as she hit the floor and she cried out. It felt like someone had rammed a poker made out of dry ice into her shoulder and twisted. She tried to get up and her body screamed at her. Lisa collapsed. Her limited field of vision allowed her to watch the bare and ugly feet of her attacker pad closer and closer, making soft shushing sounds on the wood floor.

_'You cannot just lay here and die. You need to do what needs to be done to save Ben. Get UP bitch. Get up get up get up_,' Lisa growled in her head.

She kept her face slack and frightened, submissive. Ben was depending on her to make it out of this. Those feet stopped in front of her and the toes curled, the cracking joints sounding loud in the quiet house.

"Just give us the boy," that soft awful voice continued, "And we will let you go. You are young, meat suit, you can have more sons."

Lisa closed her eyes like she was considering it, took a deep breath as she collected herself, then she kicked out hard in a move that shattered Old Man Weaver's already frail ankles. The monster in the man went crashing to the ground with a surprised roar. Lisa forced herself to her feet in a wordless scream of rage, pain, and parental desperation. She stomped down on one of Old Man Weaver's arthritic knees as she skirted around past him. The creature didn't make a sound when she hit him again but skittered around like a beetle trying to regain his feet.

Old Man Weaver got to his feet and with his broken bones, he didn't get all the way up but moved to block the stairs in a chilling, spider-like caper.

Lisa ran to the kitchen, hearing the scrabble of his nails and the slap of his feet and hands and knew he was following her.

"Give it up, human, you cannot win. Why do you struggle against the inevitable?" It giggled.

Lisa began yanking things off of the counter and throwing them in her mad dash around the kitchen, trying to slow it down in any way she could so she could get back to the stairs and to her son. A dishtowel full of silverware went flying; the forks and knives crashed and clattered loudly when they hit the floor. A tub of peanut butter exploded against the wall with a wet splat, a large canister of iodinated table salt-

Lisa stopped and whipped around in surprise at the painful bloodcurdling howls Old Man Weaver was suddenly making.

His long fingers were clawing desperately at his face as the salt burned his skin like it was acid. He stumbled towards her blindly, then stopped sharp at the line of spilled salt at his feet. Lisa stared at it in shock. The salt was actually burning him, and it looked like the monster couldn't even cross it. Lisa tore open one of her cupboards suddenly fervently glad that she'd gone to Costco the week before, and that she cooked and baked a lot. As such she had a large backup canister of industrial sized cooking salt. She snatched up her five pound Morton can of salt, shaking it liberally over the floor behind her as she went.

The Weaver Monster didn't follow her to the stairs but its angry screams certainly did.

Lisa took the stairs two at a time, alternately crawling and running as she stumbled up and away. She held the salt can awkwardly in her bad arm, using her good one to navigate the stairs. Her cut palms left streaks of blood on the walls that looked black in the dim light.

Ben's door was open, moonlight spilled out of his room to spatter into the hallway in sliver white speckles, dappled because of the trees outside. Lisa exploded into the room to find her son crouched into the corner, so small, while a writhing tower of black smoke boiled up from the floor to the ceiling, curling in on itself like black fire, and back down to the floor again in a repeating cycle. It was talking to him in that eerie voice, and Lisa realized that she'd been fighting merely a piece of it downstairs while it tormented her son upstairs.

"You are special, Benjamin. You are a vessel that will not break, will not burn out. You are destined for glory. Say yes to us and you will never die. You want your father, don't you? We can find your father for you, something your mother never did."

"Hey!" Lisa shouted.

Ben's eyes, which had been glassy and wide, seemed to clear and he looked towards her, desperation stamped all over his young face. The smoke seemed to know that she'd broken whatever hold it had had over Ben and it bubbled towards her angrily.

"Stay the hell away from my kid," she snarled, and sprayed salt with her good hand in a wide arch that had the black smoke writhing and screeching in apparent pain.

Lisa darted across the room while the smoke was otherwise occupied and grabbed Ben's arm with her bad one, gritting her teeth against the pain. "Get up!"

He lurched wobbly to his feet, banging into her. Lisa supported him as best she could while still holding onto the salt, her only weapon.

"Out the window sweetie," she said, pushing him towards it.

"Not the stairs?" he mumbled, slurring his words.

"No. There's something evil on the stairs," Lisa answered, shoving open his bedroom window. "Aim for the decorative shrubs, they should help break your fall."

The old Ben sparkled underneath the worn, tired one. "I think I know how to sneak out, mom."

"Go kiddo, get out," she said and pushed at him gently.

"What about you?" He didn't budge.

"I'm right behind you. Go!"

Ben scrambled out the window and Lisa turned to face the smoke. The smoke appeared to have gotten a hold of itself and was seething towards her in long grasping tentacles of black. Lisa drew a hasty line of salt in front of the window and the tentacles crashed against it like waves against an invisible jetty. The smoke roared in angry frustration, many voices screaming at once in various pitches and tenors. Lisa didn't wait around to find out how it was going to solve this new problem. She flung herself out the window, pausing only to toss the salt down to Ben and use her good arm to catch the edge of the roof so she didn't hit the peony bushes as hard.

She scrambled to her feet, not bothering to pick the bits of pink flower petals and leaves out of her hair. She took the salt from Ben, hissing into his ear a terse "_Run._"

They scrambled across the cold wet lawn and out into the street. Lisa didn't bother trying to take the car, she for damn sure wasn't going back inside for her keys or phone.

Instead they cut across lawns and driveways, dodging cars and skirting silent houses, heading for the one place Lisa felt they could be possibly safe.

* * *

.x.

When June Matheson answered the loud pounding at her door, she hadn't expected to see Lisa standing there, wild eyed and covered in blood and sweat, smelling like sulfur and clutching a can of table salt like it was the holy grail. Ben stood next to his mom, a tiny wraith in an AC/DC t-shirt.

June opened her door and mom and son bolted inside, slamming the door closed before June could shut it gently.

"What in the_ hell_ is going on?" June asked incredulously, putting her hands on her hips.

"It's going to sound weird, but you have to believe me," Lisa begged, "I didn't know where else to go."

"Tell me."

"Something got in my house. I don't know what it is, but it's strong and salt hurts it, and it's chasing us."

June studied Lisa's face, sensing that she was going to have merely seconds to decide if her friend was telling the truth or not. Her eyes flicked passed Lisa to her front window. Black smoke was crawling along the ground, licking into her neighbors' houses as it came towards her home.

What the hell?

June fell back into the mode that had supported her for most of her adult life. This was a situation she understood well: an enemy had them grounded and under fire, and she had to get her team out safe.

"Ben take the rest of your mother's salt and start drawing a line around the inside of the house. If it can't cross salt, hopefully that will keep whatever the hell that is from coming inside. Lisa come with me," she ordered.

June limped to her pantry, forcing her bum knee to man up and go faster. She was suddenly glad that she'd prepared for a natural disaster. As such she had barrels of foodstuffs on hand, and more importantly a massive barrel full of salt. As June threw open the door to the pantry revealing the motherload she noticed Lisa's arm was hanging at an odd angle.

"Hold still. This is going to hurt." June didn't give Lisa time to react; it would just have allowed her brain to process the pain more. She grasped Lisa's hand and elbow, and gently but quickly rotated the ball of the humorous back into place.

"Oh my god," Lisa hissed, massaging her sore shoulder. "That freaking hurt!"

"It's all over now." June turned toward the pantry and began tugging the salt barrel out. "Help me with this."

Together the two women began dragging the salt barrel into the living room where Ben was just finishing up half of the house. Lisa grabbed a decorative vase off of a side table, dumped the poppies and water out, and began using it to scoop up salt.

"Ben, find another jar and help your mom. I'll be right back," June ordered.

She was glad she only had a one story house. When she'd been wounded in action and had to retire, the military had bought her a small house with only a ground floor so she wouldn't have to navigate any stairs. June wasn't sure whether the smoke assaulting her home could get in through the theoretical upstairs if they only salted the bottom, but this way they didn't have to find out.

She went straight to her gun locker. The military hadn't allowed her to keep her service weapons when she'd retired, but June had liked them so much she'd gone out and immediately bought copies along with some friends to keep them company. Guns were her thing, she was good at them. Going down to the range every weekend made her forget that she was wounded, and reminded her that she could still be deadly. Her mind quickly cataloged their resources. She had a black Mossberg 12 gauge shot gun, an M40A1 Sniper Rifle, several Glock handguns, and a copy of her old service weapon: a cameo tinged M240 machine gun that fired a three shot burst and all the ammo to go with them.

Salt hurt their enemy, so how could she fix her weapons to accommodate that knowledge?

She made her own bullets, and filling shotgun shells with buckshot and salt was the first thing that came to mind. June picked up a brass casing for her sniper rifle. Maybe she could put salt between the gunpowder and the bullet itself when she cast? Nah, if it didn't misfire the salt would just burn up when the primer hit the gunpowder. They'd have to use the shotgun for now.

She began filling shotgun shells with salt as fast as she could, which was exceedingly fast due to movements well practiced over time. Lisa, after finishing up a double row of salt around the entire house, sat next to her and carefully studied her motions. After a while Lisa picked up her own shell and began to clumsily imitate her. June corrected her quietly when she made a mistake, never stopping her own work.

"Mom," Ben whispered, "Come look outside. They're all just standing there."

Lisa got slowly to her feet and June followed, confused. They? Who was they?

'They' turned to be her neighbors: whole families of fathers, mothers, and children, standing in the street and on her lawn with eyes the color of pitch. Nothing moved outside, those multitude of eyes embedded in slack faces watched the house unblinking.

"What are they waiting for?" Ben asked.

"They can't get in-" Lisa realized.

"-So they're waiting us out," June finished.

"What do we do?" Ben said, a little wild, "We can't wait here forever."

"How did this even happen?" June wondered, half to herself, "Is it brainwashing? Are they sick?"

"I don't know and I don't care," Lisa snapped, drawing Ben close to her side. "They are _not_ taking my kid from me."

Ben pulled gently away from her and faced his mom with tears in his eyes. "I don't think we have a choice, mom."

"What are you saying?" Lisa sounded like someone had sucker punched her in the stomach.

"They said you'd be safe, that if I said 'yes' to them, whatever that means, that they would let you and everyone else go. No one else would be hurt." Ben gripped his mom's hands, searching her face, trying to make her understand.

June felt ill. It was happening all over again. Her team was going to be defeated, and her package was going to be lost. Ben and Lisa were under her protection and she was going to fail.

Silent tears frustration and pain were streaming down Lisa's pale, bloodless cheeks but she nodded. She got gingerly down on her knees so she could look her son in the face. "I am going to find you Benjamin Braeden. Whatever it takes I will save you. Do you understand me?"

Ben nodded and hugged his mother tight. "I love you mom. I'll save you first, but don't take your time coming after me."

He squared his thin shoulders and opened the front door. Lisa and June watched helplessly as Ben walked down the front steps to stand on the walkway, feet spread and looking like he was about to take on the Devil. Maybe he was, June realized.

"My answer is yes!" Ben shouted. "Now let my mom go!"

Black smoke billowed out of the neighbor's eyes, noses, and mouths, leaving them to drop into limp and smoking piles where they'd stood. That smoke curled upward, looking almost purple against the black of the night sky. It collected its many tendrils and then plunged down towards Ben, funneling into his mouth.

The smoke disappeared and all was quiet. Then Not-Ben turned to face the house, a wicked and triumphant smile on his face.

Lisa ignored Ben's now shiny black eyes and spoke directly to her son. "I'm coming for you, baby. Hang tight."

"Of course mommy dearest," he smiled his voice not one single sound, but a vast multitude, "We expect nothing less. That's why you have to die."

June thought it was bad when he was talking, but when Ben opened his mouth and screamed it made her ears ring and the front windows shattered. Glass littered the floor and wind began to spread the salt lines across the floor. Soon they wouldn't have any protection left.

"Can you ride a bike?" June asked quietly.

Lisa frowned, eyes never leaving her son's. "What like a motorcycle?"

"Yeah. I have a Harley Super Glide sitting in the garage." June gestured to her knee. "It was supposed to be an incentive to get better, but it doesn't look like I'm getting out of here."

"Don't say that," Lisa said fiercely, finally looking at her. "We are getting out of this alive, and I _am_ getting my son back."

June shook her head and smiled, tired. "It doesn't work like that Leese. There's no way both of us can get out, and you have to save Ben. If I let him in the front then the back should be clear to let you get out the garage. I got saddle bags with the bike and my gear is hanging up on the wall. We're about the same size, but you may have to get new chaps. Take as much salt as you can carry, and the guns and their manuals. Keep the weight even. I'll take the guns apart for you so they'll fit, and you can read the manual and put them back together later."

Lisa studied her friend's face and then sighed, defeated. "Yeah, I can ride. One of my ex-boyfriends taught me back in college."

June grinned. "Never thought I'd say this, but thank God for skeevy ex's, right?"

Lisa laughed but it was a high, thin sound that suggested she was about to fall to pieces. June pulled her weapons apart and put them into small cases which she handed to Lisa. Then she tugged her friend into a hard hug.

"You got this," June said. "Ride hard and don't look back."

They made it to the garage where the white motorcycle was sitting. June helped Lisa fill the saddle bags and strap them on. Then she pointed out the fuel gauge and reminded her how many miles she could go before she had to fill up with gas, while Lisa pulled on a black leather armored jacket and chaps. June's Harley boulder boots were a little big, but with extra socks they'd fit just fine. At least they were road worthy. June helped tug out Lisa's yoga hoodie so that it didn't bunch awkwardly under her armor, and then fastened her white helmet for her.

The helmet squashed Lisa's cheeks a bit, giving her a comical chipmunk look.

"If you drop the bike and need to pick it up again, grab it by the crash bars and the seat and push, don't try to pick it up using the handle bars," June said.

Lisa nodded, fastening her gloves. "I know. I hate this," Lisa said fiercely, "I feel so helpless. First Ben, then you-"

"Don't even think about it that way," June said firmly, "This is my chance to make up for my letting my team down."

Then she left Lisa in the garage and hobbled down to her basement where her gas water heater was located. The monster in Ben would figure out their ruse soon, she would only have seconds to make sure Lisa had a clean getaway.

June stood next to her water heater in the dark, listening for the tell tale roar of the motorcycle.

* * *

.x.

Lisa left the visor open. She hadn't been on a motorcycle in years so her heavy and frightened breath would fog up the plastic face shield.

She sat on the seat and acquainted herself with the bike, feeling the leather creak under her butt. She knew that she didn't have long, but she took what little time she did have to dredge up old skills. If she messed up she would get seriously hurt, and if she got hurt Ben was as good as dead.

Lisa turned the key and the green light on the panel in front of her informed her that the bike was in neutral. She pressed the starter switch and the motorcycle roared to life, settling down to a soft purr.

At the same time she heard the front door explode and Ben calling her name in his eldritch new voice.

Lisa stomped on gear shift and squeezed the clutch, and the bike clicked into first gear. Then she hit June's garage door opener.

Lisa didn't wait for the door to finish rolling open. She opened up the throttle and roared out into the street the moment she could fit under the door, swinging clumsily around bodies. It got easier the farther she went. Her muscles were remembering their old skills, how to lean, press, where to put her weight to get the Harley to do what she wanted.

Lisa had barely gotten to the end of the street, five houses away, when June Matheson's small house exploded into a massive fireball.

* * *

.x.

_To be continued..._

_ Please Review!_


	3. Lisa and The Ghost

**Author's Note:** You guys are awesome, your feedback means so much! This chapter is a beast, sorry.

**Playlist for the chapter**: _Rainbow in the Dark_ – Dio, _Lunatic Fringe_ – Red Rider, _Magic Carpet Ride_ – Steppenwolf

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**Lisa Stops Running, Fights a Ghost, and Makes a Friend**

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Several days later Lisa ended up in a small scenic town near Buffalo, Wyoming.

She had taken the bike and headed west, escaping as far and as fast as she could go. Once the fear had died away, an aching despair had replaced it. When it got too much for her she found herself staring at her haggard reflection in the broken bathroom mirror of a small roadside gas station diner. Frightened dark eyes looked back at her from the dirty mirror. Yellowed bruises dotted her cheek, neck, and jaw, leftovers from her run in with the monster that had taken Ben. Her hair was a bedraggled mess. Lisa tugged off the red scarf she'd been keeping over her clumpy hair. The monster had given her no small number of uneven spots on the back of her head when it threw her, ripping some of her hair out in the process.

On the whole, she looked like an abuse victim. No wonder people gave her sideways looks.

She splashed her face with water and shoved her straggly, dirty hair back up underneath its scarf. Being stuffed under a motorcycle helmet for eight hours a day, on top of being ravaged by a psychotic monster was doing her hair no favors. Oh well, it wasn't like she was winning any points with her appearance when she was a mom in Battle Creek. There'd been no one around to see it at its best then, wither. Lisa left the bathroom; hands shoved deep into the pockets of her leather jacket, and made her way to the front counter to pay for the coffee she'd had earlier.

The waitress waiting behind the cash register waved her away when Lisa pulled out her wallet to pay.

"Don't worry about it honey," she said, eyeing the bruises and the scarf, "It's on the house."

Lisa was too numb or else she would have blushed with embarrassment. She wasn't used to peoples' pity. Instead she murmured a quick "Thanks" and headed for the door. She needed to get back on the road. Lisa didn't know where exactly she was going, just that she couldn't stop. If she stopped, the nightmares and the memories of her dead friends and neighbors dogging her heels might catch up with her.

"Hey, Lady-" the waitress reached out and caught Lisa's elbow with a pudgy hand.

Lisa turned and found a sympathetic look on the woman's round face.

"I have a number, if you need help. There's a women's shelter just down the street-"

"I'm fine," Lisa said firmly, and offered the waitress a grateful smile. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm okay."

The woman still looked uncertain, but her hand dropped from Lisa's arm. Lisa felt like she should say something further to reassure her, but a trio of college students coming through the door of the diner stopped her. Maybe it was the cheery chime, or their frantically whispering voices carrying in the quiet diner, maybe it was her frazzled nerves paying extra attention. Maybe it was even fate. Whatever it was, a thread of their conversation drifted over and caught in her brain like a fly trapped on the wrong side of a window.

"Did you see her eyes?" a short girl with a round, heart shaped face hissed.

The lone boy in the group squeezed the girl's shoulder. "It's over, it's done. We swore we wouldn't talk about it anymore, Kaylee."

The other girl, tall and willowy, put her hands on her hips. "Meredith is DEAD, Jake. We can't just ignore that."

"We can," he said firmly. "She wouldn't have wanted-"

"We don't know what she would have wanted, since that black eyed bitch broke her freaking_ neck_," Kaylee snapped quietly.

They may have said more, but Lisa didn't hear it. There was a roaring in her ears. Black eyes. The thing that had possessed her neighbor had had black eyes. The smoke that had taken Ben was black. Had it followed her? Or was it merely coincidence that it was here in this town? Lisa found her feet heading in a straight line to the terrified kids, leaving the startled waitress behind. She had to get them to talk to her, though she didn't quite know how to do it. Ben was counting on her to save him. If this was the same thing that had taken her son, she had to find out how to kill it or die trying.

The lies poured from her mouth before she could stop them. "I'm a therapist for Battle Creek General. You sound like you're in trouble, is there anything I can do to help?" She winced inwardly. Her lie was really, really stupid. Like being a physical therapist allowed her any sort of leeway into asking strangers questions.

"No, we don't any help. Piss off lady," the boy snarled, red darkening his cheeks, but his anger stemmed from fear rather than annoyance.

Lisa could see the naked terror in his eyes. He was deathly afraid of something, they all were. The girls crowded around behind the boy like he would protect them. From what, Lisa wasn't sure. She hoped it was the thing that took her son. Bad for them, good for her. The group of kids were certainly riding the knife edge between panic and terror, something that didn't stem from a normal problem.

"I only want to help," Lisa murmured, making her voice low and comforting. It was the tone she used for the kids who needed to learn to use their limbs again. Frightened children who had to get past their fear in order to tackle learning to walk again.

"It's okay, you can talk to me. It will be completely confidential," she continued softly, speaking more to Kaylee than to any of the rest. The girl seemed like she was wavering between staying silent and spilling the beans.

Lisa knew she'd picked the right target when two fat tears leaked down Kaylee's round red cheeks. Lisa felt guilty for manipulating her, but justified it with the knowledge that she really did want to help them. What took Ben from her and killed June could not be allowed to continue to hurt anyone else.

"Shut up Kaylee," Jake hissed, sensing his friend's weakness. "We can handle it."

"No," Kaylee snarled, turning on him, "No we can't handle it. Meredith is dead, and that thing that killed her _is still out there_."

Lisa put an arm around Kaylee's heaving shoulders. "Here, come sit down and tell me what's wrong. I'll buy you all a cup of coffee."

The offer of free coffee got Jake and the other girl. They trailed after Lisa and Kaylee toward a secluded booth at the back of the diner. Lisa flagged down the waitress, who'd been lurking nearby with a concerned look on her face, and ordered coffee for everyone. While the waitress disappeared into the kitchen for a fresh pot of coffee, Lisa studied pale frightened faces looking back at her. They were so young, just kids really.

It was remarkably easy how she fell back into the role of concerned mom, and patient doctor. "Tell me what's wrong, what happened. You're not in trouble, I just want to do what I can to help you," Lisa said. She looked them all in the eye and kept her mom face on: equal parts gentleness and caring with a little bit of omniscient sternness.

"My name is Jill," the tall previously nameless girl said quietly, "and thank you for listening to us. Not many adults would, they'd call us crazy."

The coffee arrived and Lisa filled their cups. They all sat there a moment, hands cupped around battered white ceramic, staring into the varying shades of coffee.

Kaylee finally took a deep shuddering breath and began to speak. Lisa didn't dare break the spell by interrupting her.

"There's the old McDonnell Lodge, up in the mountains. It's run as a bed and breakfast now, but its super old. It used to be a civil war era hunting resort for one of the town founders," Kaylee said and took a shuddering sip of her coffee. "He was kind of a hunting nut- lions and tigers and all that. Real Ernest Hemingway type. It's a local legend around here that he loved hunting so much that when his wife tried to divorce him, he turned her out onto the property and hunted _her._ No one could prove it, or ever found her body. He said she ran off with another guy. There's this rumor that on nights of the new moon you can still find her haunting the place."

"Let me guess," Lisa said, "It's custom for kids to sneak in and spend the night during the new moon."

Jake glared at her. "How'd you know?"

Lisa shrugged. "I had my rebellious streak too." Lisa didn't add that her rebellious streak had occurred when she was an adult, and had landed her the honor of being a single mom.

"We snuck in," Jill said. "The four of us. The owners were asleep! A group of classmates had done it last week and we wanted to fit in."

"The clock hit midnight," Kaylee whispered, "And then _she_ appeared, out of thin air! Meredith tried to hit her when she came at us, but her fist went straight through her. The ghost just broke Meredith's neck like it was nothing. We-we ran away."

Lisa's heart sank. It didn't sound at all like the thing that had taken Ben. What had taken Ben didn't appear and disappear, and it wasn't on a time schedule. She knew instinctively that her son wasn't here. She was no closer to him then when she had started. For some reason she wanted to take the coffee up in her hand and throw it, just to see the ceramic shatter and the hot coffee hiss against the faded black and white tile. The despair hit her like a sucker punch.

"That's it," Jake said. "That's the story. You happy now, lady? Gonna call us crazy?"

"No," Lisa said simply. "I believe you." And in that moment she realized that not only did she believe them, but that even though Ben wasn't here she was going to do her best to try to help them.

"What are you going to do?" Jill asked. "What _can_ you do? That thing is already dead, you can't kill it! You can't kill something that's already dead!"

"I can try," Lisa muttered. She rose and tossed a few bills onto the table that would cover the coffee and the poor waitress's tip.

The kids were still looking up at her uncertainly. Lisa was reminded that they were just scared children and she was just one person. The reality of what she was about to do weighed on her. What could she do, really? To save any of them? To save Ben? She didn't have her parents, she couldn't drag her sister into whatever this was, and June was dead. Lisa had no one she could go running to. No one but herself.

"Could one of you give me directions to this McDonnell place, please?"

With directions hastily jotted down onto a crumpled paper napkin stuck in the back pocket of her jeans, Lisa left the diner. The bell jangled behind her as the door slammed shut. It no longer sounded cheery, more like a siren heralding some coming storm.

The reality of what she was going to do finally hit her. Lisa Braeden was going to go try to kill a freaking _ghost_. Who'd have thought?

Her breath puffed out in white clouds in front of her face as Lisa pulled on her motorcycle gloves. She inhaled deep. The chilly air smelled crisp, with the barest promise of snow. It was autumn in Wyoming. The birch trees' leaves were a bright yellow green, the wind rattling through them like a fortune teller rattling the bones. The afternoon sun shone through the leaves to hit the blacktop in front of her. The road wound up through the little picturesque town and up into the mountains. Lisa jammed her helmet on her head and then threw a leg over the bike. June's Harley coughed once and then started with a soft purr. A quick check of the fuel gauge told her she would be good for another fifty miles. She backed the bike out, feeling the familiar weight of the motorcycle press against her thighs. Since Ben had been taken, and June killed, she felt like the motorcycle was her only grounding to reality. It was the only thing linking her to what she had been, a mother and a friend, to what she was now: some wraith that couldn't stop running and hiding.

Winter was just around the corner, and soon Lisa was going to have to think about heading south. She couldn't ride the bike in the winter, it would be suicide. It was already getting harder to start the bike in the morning, usually she ended up having to choke it. It was getting so cold riding during the day, and the wind was brutal. Lisa had stopped at a sporting goods store in Illinois and bought some long johns to wear under her clothes, which helped some. When she pulled over at night, her hands were numb and her teeth rattled. It was a miracle she hadn't had a wreck.

Lisa was also going to have to figure out what to do about money. She had withdrawn every penny out of her savings and her checking before she skipped out of Battle Creek, but it wouldn't last forever. Sleeping in pull offs and avoiding hotels had helped considerably, but Lisa was going to have to find more cash. Her card wouldn't do. She couldn't take the chance that she would leave a trail, because it was only a matter of time before someone came looking for her- there were too many bodies behind her. She couldn't afford to be held up; Ben was counting on her to save him.

Despite being bogged down in thought, Lisa actually enjoyed the drive.

The road to the lodge was a long winding mountainous one: overlooking gorges and lined with craggy rocks and jutting trees sporting their fall colors that burned with red and orange and yellow under the cool sun. The only sign of life was a stupid looking deer that jumped across the road when Lisa rounded a corner.

Despite its beauty, the terrain seemed very unforgiving. The McDonnell House reinforced that ominous feeling when it loomed up out of the road ahead of her. It sat perched in the middle of a small valley between two mountain peaks, and was surrounded by copses of tall dark spruce trees. The Victorian-esque estate was constructed of weathered grey stone and dark wood. The sloping shingled roof was crowned two craggy towers on either side of the building. Long tapered windows lined the walls, dark shadows lurked behind the murky glass.

The building gave Lisa the willies.

An ambulance and several crown vic cop cars sat in the circular drive in front of the house. Their sirens were off but they were running their lights. A small crowd of people huddled in a group nearby, guests at the lodge judging from their disheveled state of dress.

Lisa parked the motorcycle a short distance away and cut the engine. The police were making the rounds of the guests, their voices a low murmur as they asked questions. She pulled her helmet off and her scarf and inspected her choppy hair in one of the bike's mirrors. Her appearance didn't look any better than it had that afternoon. For the first time she actually lamented the fact that she looked like hammered shit, but there was nothing to be done about it. The only thing she could do was put her game face on and make the most of things.

Lisa combed her hair with her fingers, braided it into a short knot, and then retied her scarf. Then she moseyed over to the nervous group of guests and tried to make herself part of the group so she could figure out what was going on.

She picked a girl with wavy black hair pulled into two pigtails, wearing nice jeans and a cream colored peacoat, as her target. The lady looked friendly enough that she might be willing to talk, but not too refined that Lisa, in her Hobo Sons of Anarchy couture, would creep her out.

The double doors to the mansion creaked open and two paramedics came out with a black body bag on a stretcher. They loaded it into the ambulance with quick, sobering efficiency.

"What happened?" Lisa asked finally.

"They found her this morning," the girl answered, eyeing the body bag with pity. "The cops say she was strangled to the point of a broken neck. They say intruder, but the locals are saying a ghost did it."

"A ghost, huh?" Lisa muttered.

That wasn't what she expected. Was it possibly a ghost that had taken Ben? As soon as the thought entered her head, she knew that wasn't it. Whatever had kidnapped her son felt far more sinister than a mere ghost. Lisa had no idea how to kill a ghost, if that was even what she was really dealing with here. She hoped salt hurt ghosts as much as it hurt black smoke monsters.

"So what kind of ghost? What's the story?" Lisa asked, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. The more information she could find out, the better chance she had of actually killing whatever it was. God, it still weirded her out that hippy-yoga-instructor-Lisa turned soccer-mom-Lisa was actually considering killing something. She'd cried when she hit the neighbor's obese cat last month, for heaven's sake.

The girl finally turned to look at her and stared, taking in Lisa's biker leather and bedraggled grungy appearance. "Wow, most people would say that's crazy. They wouldn't ask about the ghost."

Lisa shrugged. "I'm not most people."

The girl stared hard at her, and then she grinned as though she'd just figured something out. "You're a Hunter, aren't you? My name is Sarah." Sarah stuck out her hand.

Lisa had no clue what a 'Hunter' was, though the term felt oddly familiar. Somehow she instinctively knew it didn't have anything to do with Bambi's forest friends. She shook Sarah's hand. "I'm Lisa."

"Wow," Sarah said in relief, "I was really hoping one of you guys would show up. I did _not _want to do this on my own."

Lisa still had no idea what was talking about. She didn't know if she should agree with her, or act oblivious. She decided she had to ask. "What's a Hunter?"

Sarah's face froze, and she looked stricken. "Oh! I'm so sorry, I thought- I mean, you looked- "

Lisa had no idea what she was talking about, but she was smart enough to connect the dots. "I don't know what a 'Hunter' is, exactly, but if that's the term for killing weird stuff that goes bump in the night? Then yes, I am," Lisa said. "Or at least trying, anyway."

"You've never done this before, have you?" Sarah said, and then her shoulders slumped. "Bummer."

"But you have," Lisa guessed.

Sarah hesitated, twirling one of her pigtails nervously. "Kinda. A long time ago. I helped some guys I met kill an evil little ghost girl haunting a painting. Do you want to go get something to eat, and talk? I'm starving. And I don't want anyone overhearing us."

Lisa couldn't believe she was even having this conversation, but she wanted to continue it. She was suddenly ravenous, aware that she'd been eating only Cliff bars and the MREs that had been in June's saddlebags for the past four days in order to make her money last longer.

"That sounds great. I passed through a 24 hour joint in the town a ways back," Lisa said

"Lucy's Grill?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"It has a massive balloon cow wearing a pink apron floating over the roof. It's kind of hard to miss," Sarah grinned.

Lisa grinned back and the action felt weird on her face. It had been a long time since she'd smiled. She hardly knew this Sarah chick, but Lisa could tell she was good people. Lisa followed her back to the little parking lot. Sarah got into a nondescript red dodge pickup. It was fairly old, but there was so much rust on the body that Lisa couldn't really place the year. Ben would have known. She swallowed a sudden urge to cry. She missed her son.

Lisa didn't cry though. She pulled her helmet onto her head and straddled the bike. The Harley purred to life and she stomped it from neutral into first. Lisa couldn't deny that she felt a bit of peace at opening the throttle back and sending the bike roaring out of the parking lot. The motorcycle was insanely loud, all 1500 CC's of it making enough noise to wake the dead. If she'd cared to look back she would have seen a lot of startled faces.

They regrouped back at the diner Lisa had left that morning. The frightened kids were gone, but the same waitress was still there. She offered an unsure smile when Lisa tromped back through the door with Sarah. Lisa returned the smile, feeling better than she had that morning. Something was beginning. She felt like a dog finally sighting a pheasant. Now that she had a direction to go in, she felt better than she had in days. They got seated in a booth in the back, and this time Lisa ordered actual food.

"Wow," Sarah said, staring incredulously at the pile of eggs, bacon, and pancakes on Lisa's plate, "You weren't kidding when you said you were hungry."

Lisa squirted ketchup all over her eggs and dumped a lake of syrup over her pancakes. "I'm starving."

Sarah poked at her bowl of oatmeal and laughed. "Well, next to your food, I feel inadequate."

"Nah. I'm the one that should feel guilty. You know, I used to be a yoga instructor and a physical therapist. We're not supposed to eat this stuff anyway," Lisa said, cutting up her pancakes. "It was all hummus, meat substitutes, and organic stuff, but now I don't care anymore. I need the sugar."

"Here's to firsts," Sarah said, raising her orange juice in a mock toast. "I guess if we're gonna do this we should share what we know. I originally thought it was a cursed object when I read the paper about the deaths, but according to the local tales it's a ghost."

Lisa chewed thoughtfully. Cursed object? Things could be cursed? That sucked. She swallowed a bite of pancake. "That's what I have, pretty much. A woman is hunted by her freak husband about two hundred years ago, turns into a ghost somehow, and kills people on the new moon. Why did you think it was a cursed object?"

Sarah hesitated, playing with her oatmeal. "I deal in antiques. That's how I got introduced into this ghost stuff in the first place. Years ago I sold a painting that was haunted and a bunch of people died. I sold a Kurdish sword to the lodge a few months ago. It was a weird looking sword, it gave me the willies. Had a bone handle and a bunch of creepy symbols on the blade. It never rusted or anything. I watched it for months to see if it would do anything. Nothing happened though so I figured it was okay, and I sold it. Then this all happened. I thought it was my sword doing it, and so I came down to try to right it."

"That was decent of you," Lisa said, smiling slightly. "That must have taken guts. Not many people would do that. As for me, I'm just passing though. I was after something else. I have to warn you now that I have no idea what I'm doing."

Sarah looked down at her food. "Here's what I know about ghosts, what I can remember from the guys I mentioned. Iron makes them disperse for a bit. They pull themselves back together after a while, so it's a temporary fix. Salt does the same thing. Makes them disappear. The guys I knew put salt into shotgun shells. To get rid of them completely you have to salt and burn every part of the ghost's body."

"Well I can help you with the shotgun part," Lisa said. "I have enough ammo to start a ghost buster _war_."

"You'll have to show me how to do that," Sarah replied, spooning brown sugar on to her oatmeal. "I don't know anything about guns."

"I'm still learning myself," Lisa told her, and then she sighed, resting her elbows on the table. "If you asked me a week ago whether I would be considering digging up a dead lady and setting her on fire, I would have called you a crazy person."

Sarah cocked her head. "Why are you here, if you don't mind my asking?"

Ben's name caught in Lisa's throat, and her eyes burned. Her baby was out there at the mercy of some monster, and she couldn't admit out loud just yet that it was her weakness that had got him there. Fortunately Sarah saw her conflict.

"It's okay," Sarah said quickly, "Forget I asked. I didn't mean to pry."

Lisa smiled weakly at her and went back to her eggs and pancakes.

"So," Sarah pushed back her empty oatmeal bowl. "We need to find the library. We need to know as much as possible before we tackle this thing tonight."

"I've only been in town a few hours." Lisa scraped up the last of her eggs and shoveled it into her mouth. "I'll follow you, since I have no idea where it might be."

"It's a hole in the wall off main street," Sarah said. "Super tiny, but also super old. There's a good chance it will have something we can use."

"Perfect."

They paid for their food and left. The mood in the small town seemed to have gone glacial. Lisa guessed it was because news of Meredith's death had already spread. The thought of another parent going through what had happened to her made her ill. No one deserved that. The feeling only served to cement her desire to get Ben back, and at the same time make sure no one went through what she did.

The library was exactly what Sarah had described it as: a nondescript hole in the wall sandwiched between a shoe boutique and a home appliance center. It was a squat crumbling brick building with thin alleyways on either side. They parked on the street, as Sarah's truck wouldn't fit in the alley. Lisa locked the bike for the first time and then ransacked her pockets for quarters. She had no idea how long they were going to be there, might as well be prepared.

"Here we go," Sarah said, pulling open one of the metal doors.

"Let's hope they value their history," Lisa said.

Sarah grinned. "Thank god most small towns do."

The inside of the library didn't reflect the rundown exterior. It had been remodeled sometime probably in the past few years. Lisa probably figured the librarians took one of their grants and raided an IKEA. The interior was warm and welcoming: local artists had painted murals of famous paintings on the walls. Unfortunately Lisa's knowledge of Art History was weak at best. She only recognized the Mona Lisa smirking by the door, and Van Gogh's 'Starry Night' exploding across the ceiling. The librarian on duty behind the help desk was a twenty something with wiry orange hair and purple glasses. She waved energetically as they walked by.

"Please, please let your newspapers be digitized," Lisa said under her breath.

Unfortunately all the library had in lieu of newspaper records was microfiche. They ended up having to get the librarian to help them, since neither Lisa or Sarah knew how to use it. The librarian cheerfully set them up with the lone microfiche reader, and Lisa was grateful that she didn't ask any questions. The two women huddled close to the crotchety old machine, Sarah working the microfiche reader and Lisa taking notes next to her.

It was two hours before they struck gold. "Here," Sarah said, "I missed this when I first arrived."

"What is it?" Lisa asked, "It looks like blue prints for a house."

"They _are_ blueprints. Blueprints for the McDonnell House when it went up in 1867. Some of the rooms on these prints aren't in the house. I know because I snooped the first night I was there." Sarah grinned.

"Secret rooms?" Lisa murmured. "You'd think the old coot wouldn't have been dumb enough to publish his secret rooms in a paper."

Sarah shrugged. "He hunted his wife. I think it's safe to assume that not all his brain cells were firing correctly."

Lisa copied down the locations of the rooms into her notebook, and then she circled one of them. "This looks like Jonah McDonnall's study. And it's one of the rooms that are not on your list."

Sarah peered over her shoulder. "Then that's where we will start. Hopefully he has something there that will tell us where he buried his wife."

Lisa grinned. "I feel like the Nancy Drew obsession of my childhood is finally coming to fruition."

"What does that make me, George or Betsy?" Sarah asked, grinning back.

"Wow, we are such nerds," Lisa laughed. It felt nice to have a partner in crime.

They stopped at a Costco for lighter fluid, more salt, matches, and a large cast iron frying pan. It was the only iron they could find. At least the handle was fairly long.

"I can't believe we're going to kill a ghost with a freaking frying pan," Sarah muttered, pushing the cart back to the truck.

"I can't believe we're going to kill a ghost at all," Lisa replied.

"Still, one would think we could manage a little more finesse than a frying pan."

Lisa took one of the jugs of lighter fluid and a canister of salt and put them into the Harley's saddlebags, but the rest they loaded into the back of Sarah's truck in large duffle bags. They made the long trek back to the McDonnell house as the sun was setting, sending golden threads across the sky as it sank behind the mountains. When they reached the haunted lodge, Lisa found that it looked even more foreboding in the dark than it did in the daytime. The house was one giant mass of skittering shadows.

Lisa parked the motorcycle next to Sarah's truck. She locked the bike and grabbed one of the duffle bags, and her saddle bags with the guns. She didn't plan on using them, but she wasn't going to leave them outside either. Someone might steal them or the ghost might wreck them.

Sarah pulled out a key and unlocked the front door to McDonnell Lodge. At Lisa's raised eyebrow, she explained, "I got a room, that way we have an explanation if we're caught wandering around."

Lisa checked her watch. "It's almost nine. We have roughly three hours before midnight, when Mae McDonnell supposedly shows up."

"Then we'd better get started."

They crept like ninjas through the silent house.

The inside of the McDonnell house was like a museum. Every now and then they stopped to stare open mouthed at some weird knickknack. The house was huge. It almost seemed bigger inside than outside. The hallways rambled this way and that. Exotic animal heads lined the walls, along with paintings and statues arranged artfully in the hallway. Lisa stopped by a table and froze.

"Is this the sword you sold?" she asked in a harsh whisper.

Sarah turned and followed her gaze. "Yeah, it is. Why?"

"I-I think I've seen it before." Lisa's voice quavered and her head was throbbing as she struggled to remember just _where_ she'd seen the sword.

The sword in the case was about three feet long with a slight 's' curve. The edge was slightly serrated towards the hilt of the sword. A knobby bone that was browned with age and looked like the horn of some animal served as a handle; strange symbols in some dead language ran down the blade itself. Lisa's temples were screaming in pain now as she tried to force her brain to remember. She knew she'd seen the sword before somewhere, only it had been a LOT smaller- more like a knife.

"Your nose is bleeding. Like, _really_ bleeding." Sarah sounded horrified, and her face was pale as she stared transfixed at Lisa's face.

Lisa touched her nose and mouth, and her fingers came away stained with blood that looked black in the dark. "Ugh, gross." She wiped her nose with her sleeve.

Sarah opened the case and lifted out the sword. "Even if it isn't behind the deaths, I can't leave it here. Do you think it made your nose bleed?"

"Nah," Lisa said, and then she sighed. "I had a car accident a while ago. I get headaches and nosebleeds whenever I try to remember stuff that happened before it, so don't worry about it."

"All the same," Sarah said firmly, "The sword is coming with me. I should never have sold it."

"May I?" Lisa held out her hand. Sarah hesitated, but handed over the sword, hilt first.

Lisa took it and for some reason it immediately felt right in her hand. A sudden image of the mysterious dude from her dreams flashed in her head. He was standing in her garage, bent over a mammoth of a car, cleaning a knife that looked almost exactly like the sword in her hand. His broad shoulders were tense, and his face looked drawn and sad. Her heart gave a twinge. For some reason that she couldn't explain, he meant a lot to her. His sadness was breaking her heart. She was standing right next to him, a passenger in her own body. She couldn't touch him, couldn't ask him who he was. He said, "Sorry Leese." Then he kissed her. A second later, the image was gone and Lisa could no longer remember exactly what he or his car looked like or why she felt the way she did. She gritted her teeth. Her lack of memory was seriously starting to piss her off.

"Can I hold onto this?" Lisa asked. She couldn't explain it, but she wanted to keep the sword. It felt like the only solid link she had to the missing gaps in her memory.

Sarah chewed her lip and looked uncertain. Somewhere off in the distance, a loud antique clock chimed ten.

"It's okay," Lisa assured her. Lisa didn't know how she knew it, but the sword in her hand wasn't evil. Far from it. She actually associated the image of the blade with safety and home for some reason, though in her head the blade was held by a man's large calloused and scarred hand instead of her own.

"Alright," Sarah said finally. "But if the sword does anything weird we're digging a hole and burying it."

"Deal."

They closed the case and walked quickly back to Sarah's room- they'd spent too much time talking already. They didn't have long to search before the ghost was supposed to show up. Lisa hoped they could manage to kill the ghost before it started trying to kill them.

Sarah's room was a tiny corner suite in the north end of the manor. The room was wallpapered in dark green with glaring white trim running along the floor. It was sparsely furnished. Besides an end table and a dresser, and a fully supplied fireplace, the only other bit of furniture in the room was a massive four poster bed that had been pulled out a few inches from the wall. Lisa immediately saw why. Sarah had moved the bed so that she could fit a salt line around it.

Sarah saw Lisa looking at the bed and grinned. "That thing almost gave me an apoplexy trying to move it, but as you can see, I triumphed over the absurdly sized furniture."

Lisa wandered over to the trim lining the floor. It was weird that McDonnell had lined the floor and windows but not the ceiling. He'd laid trim across the doorway, but not around it. It was an odd interior design choice for a wealthy person hell bent on propriety. She bent for a closer look, and then pulled off one of her motorcycle gloves to she could tap a fingernail against it. A light 'clink' sounded audibly in the silent room when she did.

"Holy shit," Lisa said. "This is glass."

Sarah came and squatted next to her and tapped the trim herself. "Did he line his rooms with glass salt trenches?"

"Looks like it," Lisa replied. "Did Jonah McDonnell actually know he'd turned his wife into a ghost?"

"I think someone figured it out, at least," Sarah murmured, running a hand along the trim, not white at all, but a continuous tiny glass case filled with salt. "This is actually a really good idea."

"It also explains why more people haven't died on nights of the new moon," Lisa said, standing and shrugging out of her motorcycle gear. "I'm willing to bet that all the rooms in the house are salted."

Sarah grinned and snapped her fingers. "So we just make a run for Jonah's study, and if creepy ol' Mae shows up we hop in a spare room and shout SAFE?"

"Something like that, only we'll be more sneaky about it."

Sarah chuckled. "This is turning out to not be as sucky and as terrifying as I thought it would be."

Lisa smiled slightly and began to root through the duffle she'd brought in. "Yeah. We'd better get started, we don't have long until Mae shows up." She withdrew a backpack, lighter fluid, matches, salt, and the Costco frying pan. She looked up at Sarah. "Do you want the frying pan? I noticed you have a fire poker in your room, and those are traditionally iron."

Sarah, who'd been stocking her own backpack, frowned. "What about your shotgun? We're not taking it?"

"We'll leave the shotgun," Lisa said. She'd been thinking about it for a while, and had decided that the risks were too great. She would be no use to Ben if she got herself killed prematurely.

"Why?"

"Because I haven't had time to practice making bullets," Lisa answered shortly. "I used up the ones I was given with target practice a couple of days ago. All I have are the ones I made and I don't trust those. I don't want something to go wrong when we can't afford it to. Until I know what I'm doing, the gun stays behind."

"Good point," Sarah sighed. "Damn. It would have made me feel safer than a freaking frying pan."

Lisa snorted. "You can have the poker; I'll take the frying pan of plus five smiting."

Sarah stared at her, and then smothered a giggle. "Wow you are a nerd."

Lisa looked down at her backpack. Her heart gave a little twinge and she felt sick. "I had- _have_ a teenage son. He games a lot. It was one of the things we did together."

"Is he why you're doing this?" Sarah asked softly, sensing a touchy subject.

Lisa couldn't trust herself to speak about Ben, so she merely nodded. "C'mon," she said, swinging her pack onto her shoulder. We should get going."

Sarah looked like she would like to pry further, but thankfully she didn't. She shrugged out of her peacoat, revealing an eggshell blue silk blouse that in another time and place Lisa would have liked to steal. Sarah pulled on a dark hoodie and grabbed her backpack. "Alright, let's do this."

They both picked up flashlights and left the room as quietly as they'd come, Lisa leading the way with the directions to Jonah McDonnell's secret study. They had almost the entire mansion to cross, having to make their way to the center of the house and up three flights of stairs, all in the dark. Lisa had stuck the sword through her belt, for some reason unwilling to part with it. The sword was a comfortable weight against her thigh.

It seemed like they were going to make it. They were only a floor away from the secret room when clocks all throughout the house tolled midnight.

"Oh shit," Lisa said, not bothering to whisper. "Here we go."

Sarah nodded, face pale and lips a thin bloodless line on her face. Lisa wondered what her own expression was. They kept moving, eyes peeled for Mae McDonnell. They didn't have to wait long. At the end of a long dark hallway, just fifty feet away from the supposed secret room, the ghost appeared.

It wasn't what Lisa had expected.

The only ghost movies Lisa had ever seen was Ghost Busters and the Ghost movie with Demi Moore. Neither of which were anything like what Lisa was currently looking at.

Mae McDonnell floated on her tip toes, feet barely touching the floor. Her face was distorted in a silent scream. Her eyes were bruised black and what looked like ragged bloodless dog bites littered her neck and arms and shoulders. Thick stringy black hair fell to her waist; ruffled by a strange breeze neither Lisa or Sarah could feel. The ghost raised dirty clawed hands and dug her nails into her neck and began to scream. Lisa felt cold sweat break out on her scalp at the chilling sound and her spine tingled. She took a firm grim on the frying pan.

Then the ghost flew at them. It was freaking_ fast_. On minute it was hovering at the end of the hallway, the next minute Lisa blinked and found Mae McDonnell right in her face. Lisa jerked back, just barely avoiding those dirty fingernails, and swung the frying pan. The ghost exploded in a puff of grey fog.

"Run!" Sarah yelled.

Both women sprinted for the end of the hallway, hearts hammering in their chests like birds trapped behind glass.

"Here," Sarah said breathlessly, skidding to a halt. "Behind this wall."

Lisa opened her mouth to ask how to find a way in, but something cold and wet curled around her ankle. She was yanked off of her feet, crashing hard to the wood floor and almost biting off her tongue in the process. The vice-like grip on her ankle was starting to burn. She barely registered Sarah's gasp of horror and looked down. The ghost was crawling towards her, one pale spidery hand wrapped around her ankle. Suddenly, Lisa wasn't afraid. She was angry. She swung the frying pan but Mae's head was just out of reach.

"Get the door open," Lisa shouted. "If she's busy with me you'll have time to work."

She didn't risk a glance back to see if Sarah was following her order. The ghost was starting to drag her down the hallway to some probably terrifying doom. A door at the other end of the hallway swung open, revealing a yawning blackness. Lisa had absolutely no desire to get dragged into whatever lay in wait there, so she took another swing at the ghost.

"Not today, bitch."

This time the frying pan connected. The ghost flew apart in flurry of grey. Lisa scrambled to her feet and sprinted back down the hallway. Sarah had scraped the wallpaper off of the wall with the poker, revealing a door that had been boarded up. Sarah had pulled the nails out and the boards littered the hallway like a tetanus surprise. She stood in the open doorway, frantically motioning Lisa on.

Just behind Lisa the ghost screeched and Lisa put on a last ditch burst of speed. Sarah stepped out of the way at the last minute and Lisa threw herself across the threshold. Mae McDonnell halted just outside the doorway and shrieked angrily.

"Thank god Jonah secured his study," Sarah breathed, keeping a white knuckled grip on the poker, her eyes never leaving the ghost.

Lisa got to her feet and slammed the door to the study shut, effectively cutting the ghosts' unintelligible tirade off. Sarah breathed a sigh of relief and dropped the poker.

"Let's get this done before the noisy Wicked Witch wakes people up," Lisa said, dusting herself off. "If anyone leaves their room tonight, they're dead."

"Hopefully no one has to pee."

"Ooo, dying on a toilet?" Lisa winced. "That would suck so bad."

"We'd better hurry then." Sarah raked a hand through her hair, making her pigtails lopsided, and considered the room.

Lisa slowly pivoted where she stood, gaping. The room was on the larger side and stuffed with antique garbage. It looked like Jonah McDonnell was a hoarder on top of being a psychopath. He kept trophies of every hunt he ever undertook, as well as keepsakes from business ventures and random knickknacks. The stuffed heads of every vicious animal imaginable were mounted on his wall: from tigers to bull elephants to some sort of large fish with teeth the size of Lisa's fingers. Book shelves ran around the room, stuffed with thick tomes with crackling bindings.

"I suppose it would be too much to hope for something labeled Dear Diary," Sarah whispered conspiratorially.

"Here," Lisa said, striding forward and pulling a sheaf of paperwork off of a shelf. "The handwriting is almost illegible, but I can make out his wife's name."

"Let me see," Sarah said, holding out her hand, "I'm better at reading ridiculously spidery antique handwriting."

Lisa handed her the paperwork and Sarah leafed through it, nose almost pressed to the yellowing pages in an effort to see better. Lisa came and stood next to her and shined the flashlight over her shoulder.

"It's a receipt of sorts," Sarah said, squinting at it. "The gist is a service done, um, oh no. The service was a payment for the disposal of Mae McDonnell's body. They burned her body after Jonah hunted her down and set the dogs on her."

"Then why is she still around?" Lisa asked. "Isn't burning what you're supposed to do with a ghost?"

"Not if a bit of her is still here," Sarah said thoughtfully.

"What like a trophy?" Lisa asked incredulously.

"If a bit of the ghost's mortal body is still around the ghost can still haunt stuff," Sarah explained. "The guys I worked with killed the creepy ghost girl by burning her doll, since her body was already cremated. Her doll had her real hair woven into it. Creepy antique practice, but they burned the doll and the ghost went up in sparks."

"So we just have to look for hair or something?"

Sarah eyed the dusty office dubiously. "Or something."

Lisa wandered over to the massive desk in the corner while Sarah began to inspect the mummified remains in specimen jars along the wall. Jonah McDonnell had not been a tidy man, nor had he been organized. He'd literally been unable to throw anything away, just left things in piles around the room.

"Wow," Sarah called. "I found a journal. I can't believe it, I actually found his journal. Are we lucky or what?"

Lisa began to poke through the stuff on the desk; every time she touched a sheaf of paper a little cloud of dust was released.

"What does it say?" Lisa called, fiddling with an antique Morse code device. Dot dot dot, dash dash dash, dot dot dot. She wished it was Ben sending it to her, instead of the other way around.

"Let's see. Well, Mae really did intend on leaving him. He was a sadist on top of the extreme hunting. The night before she was supposed to leave he turned her out onto the property, told her to run and hide if she could. Then he set the dogs after her. Mae was set loose at midnight and eluded the dogs for about five hours. They caught her just before dawn. Jonah let the dogs savage her and then he had her dumped in a pit and burned." Sarah sounded a little sick.

"Well that explains the bite marks on the ghost," Lisa murmured, looking through the desk drawers.

"It also explains the weird time schedule. The ghost appears at midnight on the new moon for five hours because that's how long it took her to die. This is really horrible. Jonah wrote about the ghost too. Mae started appearing as a ghost about a year after she died. Jonah writes about how a ghost is the greatest hunt a man can achieve. How weird is that?"

"Pretty weird," Lisa laughed, moving around behind the desk to inspect the shelves nearby. "Since it's exactly what we're doing."

"True enough."

"Oh god, gross," Lisa said, stopping short.

"What?" Sarah's voice was muffled behind a stack of books.

"…I know what he did with his wife."

Sarah emerged from around a precarious pile of books and came up to stand beside Lisa. "What? Why, what'd he do to her?"

Lisa pointed.

Sarah's eyes followed Lisa's finger. "EW! That is so, so gross!"

On a table behind Jonah McDonnell's desk was Mae McDonnell's mummified head in a glass case. He'd had her head preserved like he had everything else he'd hunted.

Sarah looked back at a glowering painting of Jonah hanging on the wall and shook her fist at him. "You sir, are a creep of the first order."

"Hopefully his hell is being stuck in a Predator movie without Arnold Schwarzenegger or Danny Glover," Lisa said, also staring at the painting.

"In his underwear in the middle of summer with nothing but a plastic spoon to defend himself with," Sarah added with relish. "And mosquitoes the size of humming birds. Mummified head, who does that? I almost feel sorry for his poor wife."

"I would, if the bitch hadn't tried to gouge my eyes out with her dirty ghost finger nails," Lisa replied, rolling up her sleeves.

Lisa lifted the head out of its case with the poker and set it in a metal shield. Sarah covered the head in lighter fluid and salted it and Lisa dropped a lit match. The whole thing went up in flames with a satisfying _woosh_. It didn't burn as well as they'd hoped, despite how old it was. They had to keep dumping lighter fluid on it to keep the fire going, and it _stank_ to high heaven. The scent of charred flesh clogged both their nostrils. Soon, Lisa and Sarah were both gagging, trying not to throw up all over priceless antique furniture. Finally there was a shower of sparks an otherworldly scream. The head collapsed into a pile of ash and silence fell over the study.

"Is that it?" Lisa asked.

"I think so," Sarah said cautiously, still staring at the remains of the head like she expected it to come back to life at any second.

"Then we need to get out of here." Lisa shoved the lighter fluid and salt back into her bag. "We made a lot of noise. I can't afford to get arrested."

"I packed light," Sarah said, snagging her own backpack, "All we have to do is grab the duffle bags and your motorcycle stuff."

They hoofed it back to Sarah's room. There was no sign of Mae McDonnell's vengeful spirit, though Lisa didn't stop looking over her shoulder for her. Back in Sarah's room they threw their backpacks and weapons into the duffle bags, and Lisa hurriedly shrugged on her motorcycle gear. Grabbing her helmet and gloves, and one of the duffle bags she turned and held out her hand to Sarah.

"It was nice working with you," Lisa told her.

Sarah shook her head. "The fat lady hasn't sung yet. We still need to make it out of here without getting arrested."

Both women raced out to their respective wheels. Lisa lamented for once just how loud the motorcycle was. It would be sure to wake people up. She pulled her motorcycle helmet on and tugged on her gloves. Sarah threw the duffle bags into the back of her truck and turned to face Lisa.

"How bout we regroup at the diner parking lot? It's not like they have traffic cameras to track us anyway. We can decide where to go from here," Sarah suggested.

Lisa, who'd been thinking that they would immediately go their separate ways, was startled but pleased. She nodded her assent and shut the face shield. If she could gain an ally or learn more about things that went bump in the night it would go a lot farther to helping Ben.

They regrouped back at the diner just as dawn was breaking. Sunlight streaked over the horizon, warm and golden. Birds were chirping in the fields of coarse prairie grass. Lisa left the bike idling, pulled off her helmet, and leaned against Sarah's hood. Sarah rested her elbow on her window and held out her other hand.

"I'm glad I met you," Sarah said.

Lisa shook her hand. "Likewise. I wasn't sure what I was doing. You probably saved my life."

Sarah cocked her head. "You're going to keep doing this, aren't you?"

Lisa nodded. "I have to. Until I find the person I'm looking for, that is. I can't stop."

"Well," Sarah hesitated, chewing her lip, "Could I come with you?"

Lisa stared at her, surprised. "What, why?"

Sarah took a deep breath. "The guys that saved me, the ones that I learned it all from, they were Hunters. After they did the job they left. Years went by. Sometimes a supernatural problem would crop up and I'd wait for someone to come deal with it. Sometimes a Hunter showed up, but more often than not people died and that was that. I always felt horrible for knowing what it was but not doing anything. Last year my father died, and I inherited his business. I have nothing left tying me to where I live in New York. I always felt like I should have done something but it wasn't my business. I wasn't a Hunter. Coming with you is my chance to make things right. Not everyone knows what we know about what goes on in the night, but the people who do know should do something about it. People died when I could've done something and I need to make it right. So can I? Come with you?"

"Yes." The words were out of her mouth before Lisa could stop them.

A smile brightened Sarah's face. "Great."

Lisa smiled back. It was nice to have a companion, for however long their paths ran side by side. Now that she had someone with her, the prospect of the dark road ahead of her didn't seem so bleak and hopeless after all. She pulled off her scarf, refolded it, and then tied it around her head. It had been bunching under her helmet.

"Why do you wear that scarf all the time?" Sarah asked curiously.

Lisa pulled it off, and showed her the choppy hair at the back of her head where her possessed neighbor had literally ripped the hair out of her skull.

"Ouch," Sarah said sympathetically. "Listen," she continued. "I know it is absolutely none of my business, and I don't know what happened to you, but I think you should get rid of the scarf. You won't be able to do much looking like a gypsy biker. You're gonna have to schmooze with people eventually instead of hiding like a hermit. Let's get you a haircut."

Lisa ran a hand over the back of her head. "I don't think there's much they can do. But you're probably right." Lisa didn't mention that if she were wanted for June's death, and the probable death of her neighbors, it would be best if she didn't look like Lisa Braeden anymore.

They decided it was probably best if they got the hell out of Dodge before they did anything else. Now that it was daylight people would be up and about, and would find the carnage that went on in the gassed up their vehicles and left the small town behind them.

They found a hair salon in a town a few hours away that looked trendy enough and clean enough that Lisa probably wouldn't come out looking like a freak, but cheap enough that she wouldn't be hobo poor afterwards either.

Sarah pushed Lisa into a chair and then looked at the tattooed hairstylist with blue and black hair who was pulling on her apron.

"Do stuff to her," Sarah said.

The stylist grinned at the double entendre and Lisa rolled her eyes. "Whatever you can. I had an accident a while back," she said by way of explanation.

"I can see that." The hairstylist touched the back of Lisa's head sympathetically. "Poor thing. Trust me, it will look fine."

An hour later, and thirty dollars poorer, Lisa left the hair salon with a wavy a-line bob. She couldn't stop running her hands over it. Her hair was naturally slightly curly and for much of Lisa's teen years she'd hated it. On the road she wouldn't have time for her straightener, and it was a relief to have something that would be very little maintenance.

"You look good," Sarah said as they headed back to their rides. "Like Alice from Resident Evil, or something. Very kick ass."

Lisa snorted. "What a joke. I used to be suburbia mom and now I look like the girl I used to be in college. Strung out, desperate, angry-"

"No," Sarah said firmly. "Far from it. I don't know what happened to you, but you're on a mission. You don't look like someone would give up. You beat a ghost up with a frying pan, for chrissakes."

"Speaking of which I've got to write all this stuff down," Lisa said, fiddling with her keys. "I'll never remember it all otherwise."

They stopped at a Barnes and Nobles before they left town. Lisa found the sturdiest journal she could locate: a thick red leather book with hefty cream colored pages. There was a lot of space, which was good because she figured she had a lot to learn. Something told her that ghosts were only the tip of the iceberg of weird shit that went bump in the night. On the first page she wrote 'GHOSTS' and then listed out what they did and ways to kill them. She devoted pages at the back for the thing that took Ben, detailing what it looked like and what it had done. At this point any detail at all was important.

After some deliberation the two women decided to work their way back East so Sarah could liquidate all of her assets. Then they would decide what to do from there.

On a lonely stretch of highway with no one in sight for miles they pulled over for lunch and some target practice. Lisa knew how to shoot, though she wasn't very good at it, and she taught Sarah the bit of gun safety she knew while they ate the Subway sandwiches from Sarah's cooler.

"Here's the safety," Lisa said, pointing at the one on the glock. "I always keep them unloaded and apart when I'm traveling. Mostly because they won't fit in my saddlebags if they're together. Always check to make sure they're unloaded even if you know they're unloaded. Check when someone hands it to you. Check when you pick it up. Make sure you know where you're shooting, and what's behind your target. Always know what direction the muzzle is pointed. Always. If it jams, then be careful when you eject the dud. When you hand the gun to someone, make sure they have a good grip on it before you let go. If it drops and the gun goes off…"

"Got it," Sarah said. She looked a little green and handled the gun like it might grow teeth and bite her.

They set up a cardboard box about thirty feet away, weighed it down with rocks and spray painted a bullseye on it. Then they set up the guns on a towel on the trailer bed. Lisa pointed out each one's specs, reciting from memory what June's manuals said. It took Sarah a few hours to become comfortable with them, their weight and their kick. Lisa only hit the box a few times, but after a while Sarah was hitting dead center with each weapon.

"Wow," Lisa whistled when they went to go retrieve their target and saw Sarah's progress up close, "I'm jealous. How'd you pick that up so fast?"

Sarah shrugged. "I have no idea. It may have something to do with the fact that the cardboard box kindly held still for me."

They drove for eight hours that, ending up somewhere in Nebraska when the sun began to sink.

Later that night they'd found a pull off. Lisa built a fire and Sarah was poking at two cans of Chef Boyardee that were heating in the coals with a spoon. It was quiet save for the the crackling of the fire and the cacophony of crickets. The occasional night bird called, a body-less cry in the dark. If she and Sarah were going to become partners, then Lisa owed it to her to come clean. Sarah had to know what she was getting into.

"Something took my son." Lisa's voice was rough and scratchy when she got the courage to speak, but it felt good to finally tell somebody.

Sarah looked up at her but didn't say anything. She merely handed her a hot can of ravioli and a spoon. Lisa took the can. It was hot, almost blistering her fingers so she wrapped it in a towel. She took a deep breath. It was hard to talk about Ben, but it needed to be said. Sarah needed to know everything if they were going to do this.

"Ben was fifteen, just a kid. We were living in Battle Creek Michigan. It was not ideal but we made the most of it. Then Ben started having nightmares. I thought it was something he would grow out of, but- black smoke possessed him and took him from me because I _was too weak to protect him_," Lisa said brokenly.

Sarah kept silent but her expression was sympathetic.

Lisa looked at her finally. "I don't know what took my kid but I'm going to find it and I'm going to kill it."

Sarah set aside her can of ravioli and rested her hands on her knees. She met Lisa's gaze evenly. "And I will have your back. I know you hardly know me, and we just met, but you can believe that. Because it's the right thing to do. I should have been helping people years ago and I didn't. So I'm with you, whatever happens."

"Thanks," Lisa whispered.

They finished their food in silence. Hours later, when Sarah retreated to the cab and Lisa bedded down in the bed of the truck, Lisa found herself staring up at the stars. There were so many. She wondered if Ben was looking up at those same starts.

"Goodnight," she whispered.

* * *

_.x._

_To be continued..._

_Please review!_


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